Sunday, 13 July 2014

1963


ARM’D year! year of the struggle! 

No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year! 

Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas piano; 

But as a strong man, erect, clothed in blue clothes, advancing, 
carrying a rifle on your shoulder...


"For the very first time ever, When they had a revolution in Nicaragua,
There was no interference from America - Human rights in America
Well the people fought the leader, And up he flew...
With no Washington bullets, what else could he do?

And in the Bay of Pigs in 1961, Havana fought the playboys in the Cuban sun,
For Castro is a colour, is redder than red, Those Washington bullets want Castro dead.

For Castro is the colour...That will earn you a spray of lead..."


“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt”


Measure for Measure
Act I, Scene IV


For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd;
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd — for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps Death his court: and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit —
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable — and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king!

Richard II, Act III - Scene II

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